Page 88 of Ramsay

“I heard a rumor,” Oliver says, his mouth tilting in a cruel smile.

“I think we’ve established you shouldn’t listen to gossip,” I grumble, caught in his wretched stare until he looks away. Asshat.

“So, what’s with the tradition?” I ask to turn the subject.

Ramsay eyes me, and just when I think he’s going to blow me off, he speaks. “Just a fuck you to my parents.”

Raising a brow, I look around at the others. “For how long?”

He shrugs. “Since forever.”

“You guys have been friends that long?”

“Yes,” he says simply.

“What about you?” Oliver butts in with a frown. “Why aren’t you home with your parents?”

Since he’s being a dick, I’m tempted to blow him off, but Ramsay was surprisingly forthcoming, and I can’t deny him after that.

Heaving a sigh, I mutter, “Every moment of every day is devoted to Carmen. I’m sure I sound like an ass, but I’m fucking tired of it.”

I turn my head away and push back the angry tears, annoyed they’re making an appearance. It’s quiet for a minute before Diem breaks in, saying with a wicked waggle of his brows, “C’mon, sweet, let’s play so I can kick your ass some more.”

Suppressing a smile, I roll my eyes but grab the controller, ignoring the pleasure blooming in my heart.

After getting my ass whooped twenty damn more times, I pass out on the couch, rousing at one point when Diem shouts, and one of the others shushes him.

“Oops,” he mumbles.

“What are we going to do?” Oliver says.

“I say we keep her,” Diem exclaims.

“We can’t. You know this. We made a deal, and we can’t afford outsiders learning our shit. Besides, her showing up here could have exposed us,” Ramsay says with a heavy sigh.

“You think she’s a threat?” This from Oliver.

“I think anyone who isn’t one of us is a threat,” Ramsay returns. “We’re close, Ollie. So close. Besides, until we deal with D’s cousin, she’s a liability. And we don’t need anyone looking over our shoulders.”

Who the fuck is Diem’s cousin? What does this have to do with me?

Someone shuffles, and then Diem shouts, “Ha! Take that fucker!”

“Sh, fuck. You’re like a fucking child!” Oliver rebukes.

“Sorry,” Diem says sulkily.

“Diem, did you find your mom?” Ramsay asks.

There’s a pregnant pause before Diem says with a sigh, “No, she’s probably out turning tricks.”

My mind races with the information they’re passing out like candy, and it takes a supreme amount of effort to hold still and breathe deeply.

Tricks? So, Diem’s mom really is a prostitute? Holy shit.

Another moment passes where they’re strangely silent, and then Ramsay picks up again. “Well? What do we do about our little problem?”

“You know what I think,” Diem pipes in.

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